"You must hence to-night.
Desdemona. To-night, my Lord?
Othello. With all my heart."
This faint expression of Desdemona's slight surprise and reluctance, and no more—is I allow—natural and delicate in her—whether wife, bride, or Maid—but Othello's "with all my heart" is—
TALBOYS.
Equally worthy of Othello. You know it is.
NORTH.
My dear Seward—do the Doge—Brabantio—the Senate understand and believe what Othello has been telling them—and that he has now disclosed to them the fact of a private marriage with Desdemona, of some weeks' or months' standing? Is that their impression?
SEWARD.
I cannot say.
NORTH.
I can. Or has Othello been reserved—cautious—crafty in all his apparent candour—and Desdemona equally so? Are they indeed oldish-married folk?